


And All At Once...

by FireLordShiro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Slow Burn, Slow Burn Keith/Lance (Voltron), Swim Team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireLordShiro/pseuds/FireLordShiro
Summary: Lance squinted at the last locker, he couldn’t quite make out that name.He took a few steps across the room, curious about the identity of his final teammate. Altea had a good swim program, after all, so the team was expected to be pretty good. Lance wondered if he would recognize the name of the owner of the last locker.When he got close enough to read the name, though, he stopped. He froze. No. Not here.





	1. Chapter 1

Lance wasn’t humble. That much was known. It was accepted. Hell, it was  _ expected _ . He wasn’t a modest guy.

 

But he never really  bragged unless he could back it up. He wouldn’t claim to be the best at something if he really wasn’t, or at least, if he didn’t truly believe that he was. 

 

And that’s how he avoided feeling guilt about his arrogance. Why feel guilty about proclaiming the truth?

 

So when Lance bragged about what a great swimmer he was, he  _ meant it _ .

 

He meant it back in middle school on his neighborhood swim team in Pasadena, when everyone else was there just for fun until school started back.

 

He meant it the summer between eighth grade and high school, when he was asked to join a local competitive swim club. 

 

He meant it two years after that, when he qualified for the California state championships as a sophomore, the youngest competitor to do so.

 

He meant it when he  _ won _ the state championships during his senior year, taking home three first place finishes. One for the group medley relay, one for his individual freestyle, and one for his signature stroke: the butterfly.

 

He meant it when he finally decided which college to swim for. He meant it when he accepted a full ride pending he compete with the team for four years. He meant it as soon as he stepped foot on Altea University’s campus in mid-July, summer breeze lifting the stray strands of hair from his face as he and his parents made their way to his dorm in the athletes’ building, hauling an obscene amount of luggage behind them.

 

It would take a lot to humble Lance McClain. 

 

***

 

Once Lance had finally convinced his parents to leave (which took two hours and several choruses of “ _ Adios, hijo _ !” and “ _ Te amo _ !”), he took his time arranging his things on his side of the dorm.

 

Blue ribbons, gold medals, and an oversized Cuban flag adorned the wall behind Lance’s bed once he was done. Small figurines of his favorite superheroes (not toys,  _ collectibles _ , thank you very much) lined the top shelf of his desk, the full Avengers team on watch to look out for any potential dangers in the 12 x 16 foot room. Lance would die before he purchased a D.C. Comics hero, because Marvel was just so obviously superior, ask anyone.

Lance stepped back to admire his work, standing proudly in the middle of the room when a thundering voice cut through the air around him just as the door swung open.

 

“ROOOOOOOOMMIE!” Lance’s head snapped to the side just in time to see the door swing open, slam against the chest of drawers behind it, and bounce back to hit the dude who had just walked in the room, if he hadn’t caught it, that is.

 

The hulking mass of human that had to be Hunk Garrett stood before him, smile wide across his face, eyes glittering with what Lance could only describe as  _ sun _ . He had texted his future roommate a few times over the summer, but Hunk’s enthusiasm through the phone was nothing compared to his enthusiasm in person.

 

The new roommate tossed the bag he was carrying onto the untouched bed in the corner of the room with ease and then settled his smile back on Lance. 

 

“You must be Lance,” he extended one hand forward, eyes all friendship and sincerity, “I’m Hunk.”

 

Lance let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding and smiled. He met Hunk’s handshake firmly before the words “you’re a swimmer?” fell out of his mouth.

 

Hunk laughed, a big, hearty laugh that seemed to fill the space around them, and clapped Lance on the back as he walked past him into the small dorm.

 

“Yep. Colorado state champ men's medley back stroker three years running.” Hunk beamed at Lance then, pride in his accomplishments evident. He let out a low whistle as his gaze flitted across Lance’s display of winnings. “Looks like you’re no slouch, either.”

 

“You could say that, yeah,” Lance huffed a laugh and sat down in his desk chair, facing Hunk. “California has some heavy competition and I don’t like to lose so…” He gestured to the wall then, allowing the prizes to speak for themselves.

 

Hunk laughed. “Well, we’re lucky to have you then.” 

 

Hunk spent the next hour or so unpacking his things, tossing questions back and forth with Lance as he sat in the opposite corner of the room idly tossing a nerf basketball back and forth between his hands. Lance learned that Hunk was Samoan, the youngest of three siblings (same as Lance), and a complete masochist.

 

“Wait wait, you’re really on scholarship to swim here… while double majoring in molecular biology and-”

 

“And aerospace engineering, yeah.”

 

“How. How do you -  _ how _ would you ever have the time or the  _ patience _ to learn that stuff?”

 

Hunk shrugged. “I just like to learn, man. Can’t get enough of it.” He sighed and closed the last of his suitcases, turning to lean against his desk with his arms crossed, looking over to Lance casually. “What about you? What’re you majoring in?”

 

“No idea. I’m just taking some GenEds this semester to see if I find something I like. Meanwhile, I’ll be dominating the pool.” Lance shot finger guns at Hunk then, who snorted once in response. 

 

“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. Wait, you just got here today right? Have you seen our training facility yet?” 

 

“Yeah I saw it on my tour last fall, why?”

 

“Oh, no, dude, the school remodeled the whole thing! Come on.” 

 

Hunk grabbed Lance by the elbow on his way out of the room, barely pausing to turn the light off before the door slammed behind them.

 

The walk to the training complex was short. The athletes’ dorms were near the center of campus, close to the gym available to the student body as well as the private training grounds for the school’s sports teams. Hunk led the way through throngs of eager and scared looking students (freshmen, Lance assumed) and annoyed and tired looking students (upperclassmen, clearly) until Lance saw two imposing glass doors directly in their path, laser-etched words in the glass reading:  _ The Garrison Swim and Dive Complex, est. 2018 _ .

 

Hunk pushed through the door with little effort, but Lance had a feeling that those doors were heavier than they looked. The floors were white marble with little gold flecks, and the walls were so shiny Lance swore they had to have been cleaned five minutes earlier. Trophy cases lined the walls, filled with medals, trophies, newspaper clippings, and old swim caps and warm up jackets with past athletes’ last names emblazoned in red.

 

Lance felt his excitement growing as he followed Hunk down the corridor, past the closed concession stand, past the men’s, women’s and  _ gender neutral _ bathrooms (hey, way to go, AU), and into the cavernous room that held the most amazing swimming pool Lance had ever seen.

 

The crystal blue water was still, untouched by human hands, and the lane lines floated completely parallel, creating eight even lanes for practice the next morning. The tiles surrounding the pool were pristine and totally dry, clearly someone had cleaned the surface of the floor since the last practice. As Lance crept closer to the edge of the water he could see the lane markers on the bottom of the pool, the crisp crimson and clean white of Altea University tiling the expanse of the ground.

 

It was an olympic sized pool, twice larger than the ones Lance was used to back in high school. He had swam in olympic sized pools on three separate occasions, the California state championships in his sophomore, junior, and senior years. The idea of swimming in such a beautiful facility  _ every day _ had Lance’s head spinning.

 

“Uh, hello? Lance?”

 

The voice snapped Lance out of his internal monologue and he looked up to see Hunk staring at him inquisitively.

 

“You having a moment over there? I want to show you the locker room.”

 

Lance shook his head once for clarity and then followed Hunk without a word. He was still letting his surroundings settle in.

 

And he would continue to go without speaking, because the locker room knocked the wind out of him. 

 

He followed Hunk through the side door marked  _ Altea Lions _ and watched as the room opened up before him. 

 

In front of him was a crest, on the floor in the middle of the room, on the walls in the four cardinal directions, above each individual locker. It was the crest of Altea University, golden, with two perpendicular lines dividing the crest into quarters. In one quarter section was the yin yang symbol, meant to symbolize harmony. Then there was an iris flower, meant to symbolize hope. Next was the sun and the moon, meant to symbolize curiosity. And finally, there was a lion, meant to symbolize courage.

 

Lance breathed in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth. He really was here. He had accomplished a goal. He was at Altea University, swimming for the Lions. He felt a smile spread across his face. 

 

Hunk waved him over to the other side of the room, drew his attention to the locker with a fresh, hot off the presses warm up jacket hanging up. The back of the jacket faced outwards, and as Lance approached he smiled wide as he saw his own name, McClain, written in bold type across the back. 

 

He stood back then, and surveyed the lockers around his. The room seemed to be divided in half, the boys’ team’s lockers on one side, the girls’ team’s on the other. He squinted to read the names on the jackets on the other side of the room:  _ Rollins. Holt. Castle. Evans. Riley. Goldstein. Applegate. Finley. _

 

He turned, reading the names inside of the boys’ lockers around him. He started at the side nearest his own, reading:  _ Garrett. McClain. Holt. Harrison. Jenkins. Reece. Shirogane. _

 

Lance squinted at the last locker, he couldn’t quite make out that name.

 

He took a few steps across the room, curious about the identity of his final teammate. Altea had a good program, after all, so the team was expected to be pretty good. Lance wondered if he would recognize the name of the owner of the last locker.

 

When he got close enough to read the name, though, he stopped. He froze.  _ No. Not here. _

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a short, humorless laugh. 

 

Again? Wasn’t clocking in just barely slower than this guy for all of his high school career enough? Did the universe have something against him? He couldn’t really be on a team with that guy, right? It had to be some kind of joke.

 

But even as the thought crossed Lance’s mind, he knew it wasn’t a joke. He was seeing it with his own eyes, placed before him in such a finite way, name spelled out in plain, red block letters. 

 

Lance turned on his heel and stormed out of the locker room. He could hear Hunk’s concerned voice calling after him, and eventually deciding to follow him out, but he didn’t stop to explain himself.

 

Of all the people, of all the places. How did they end up here? How did he choose the same school, the same team? How? 

 

Lance kept asking himself those same questions as he walked, but he couldn’t find any answers. He couldn’t think at all. All he knew in that moment was the name on that jacket. The name he’d been googling for four years. The name that he could never beat. 

 

_ Kogane. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi hi!
> 
> wooooohooooo it's been a hot minute since the last time i uploaded anything so hi here i am i missed you
> 
> in this chapter we have:  
> *introductions of allura, pidge, shiro, matt, coran, and keith
> 
> in this chapter we also have:  
> *lance's insecurity and angst  
> *the beginnings of a pining keith  
> *pidge being a little shit

6:00 AM hit Lance like a train the next morning.

 

He’d wanted to get a good night’s sleep. He’d wanted to wake up with a spring in his step and a shimmer in his eye to knock the socks off his coaches and teammates at the first swim practice of the season. He’d  _ wanted _ a lot of things.

 

But instead of doing those things that he’d wanted to do, he’d stayed up almost all night googling Keith Kogane. Again.

 

He rewatched videos, reread interviews, recalculated the time he would have to make up in every race in order to beat Keith.  _ Again _ .

 

Lance stared at the dark ceiling in his dorm room, listening to the high pitched shrill of Hunk’s alarm. He heard his roommate grumble and throw something at his phone, which missed, by the sound of it. Hunk groaned, the shitty bed creaked, and the alarm stopped. Out of the corner of his eye Lance saw a bright light that must’ve been Hunk’s phone, and silently cursed himself, the gods, the  _ universe _ for this situation he found himself in. Then he hauled himself out of bed and followed Hunk to practice.

 

Hunk had so many questions the night before, and Lance tried to answer them as best he could, but Hunk never connected all of the dots and understood Lance’s hatred fully. After an hour of explaining himself, Lance gave up and opted to sulk quietly in the pile of blankets on his bed.

 

This morning Hunk seemed to have forgotten about Lance’s outbursts and he made polite conversation on the walk to the pool. Lance humored him with a few short responses, but exhaustion and nerves were kicking in, and words weren’t coming easy.

 

He couldn’t put into words the animosity he felt toward Keith Kogane. He couldn’t make it make sense to someone else, he’d tried enough times to know that. But every time Lance broke a personal record and googled other swimmers’ best times to compare,  _ Keith Kogane _ was listed above  _ Lance McClain _ . Every time.The weight of that knowledge haunted him through high school, and beyond, apparently, because the universe had a cruel sense of humor.

 

Lance felt the flurry of nerves in his stomach constricting as he pushed through the glass doors into the Garrison complex, which were just as heavy as he imagined, and did his best to clear his mind. He needed to make a good first impression on his teammates today.

 

Gentle chatter reached his ears as he followed Hunk toward the pool, and when they rounded the corner Lance looked up to see that about half the team was already there.

 

Dressed in varying degrees of practice gear, all foggy eyes and disheveled hair, the Altea Lions didn’t match Lance’s preconceived perception of them. Instead of chiseled, bronzed athletes with blindingly white smiles and victory practically written across their foreheads, Lance found what looked like peers. They were all fit, as any college athlete would be, but except for one guy on the corner with a weird white forelock who looked straight out of an old Hollister ad, no one was super physically imposing. They looked like college students. 

 

The smallest sense of relief flooded Lance’s system when he took in the people before him, and a brief jolt of pride shot up his spine when he noticed that he was one of the tallest on the team. Height was an advantage to swimmers, after all.

 

“Just make sure you keep up with the reading, he loves to cold call.” Lance was sure they had walked in on the tail end of a conversation, but he and Hunk sidled up to the nearest cluster of swimmers with small waves and nervous smiles. “But if you answer one of those cold calls correctly he’ll remember.” The girl who was talking gave a smaller girl a pat on the shoulder before turning her attention to the new additions to the conversation.

 

And Lance’s heart skipped a beat.

 

She was stunning. Tall and statuesque, glowing brown skin, with a dazzling smile. Her silvery hair was piled on top of her head in a bun that appeared heavily slept in. Her complexion was dewey in the kind of way that could only be natural, no matter how many brand name moisturizers you tried to use. She, also, looked straight out of a Hollister ad.

 

“Hello, you two must be freshmen,” Hollister girl said, addressing Hunk and Lance and making Lance feel very important and very small at the same time. She extended one hand in Lance’s direction, “I’m Allura. It’s very nice to meet you. Glad to have you on the team.” 

 

Lance knew he should do something. Shake her hand. Introduce himself. Say literally anything, at all. But he just stood there, ogling. Her smile faltered.

 

Hunk saved him after a few seconds, once it became clear that Lance was malfunctioning.

 

“Hey there, I’m Hunk. This is Lance.” Hunk shook Allura’s hand, and the blinding smile was back. “I think he’s still half asleep.”

 

A peeling laugh from Allura tore Lance from his thoughts, and he found himself chuckling along with her. 

 

He extended his hand to her this time, summoning all of the bravado he could. “The name’s Lance,” his voice dropped a full octave, “it’s truly a pleasure to meet you.”

 

Lance heard a quiet snort at that. He looked up, quickly dropping Allura’s hand, to find the smaller girl, from the conversation they had interrupted, with a smug grin on her face.

 

“I’m Katie. But everyone calls me Pidge.” The girl quickly inserted herself between Lance and Allura, eyes casting a mischievous glint in Lance’s direction. 

 

“Allura was just giving me the inside scoop on my professors this semester, since she’s had most of them. Since she’s a  _ junior _ .” The last word was pointed at Lance, and he definitely knew it.

 

“Oh wow, cool. Really cool,” Lance ran one hand through his bedhead and again addressed Allura, “so what kind of classes do you take, Allura?”

 

Both Pidge and Hunk turned their heads to Allura, waiting on her answer. Judging from the smirk on her face, she knew that Lance and Pidge were testing each other, but she didn’t seem to mind.

 

“Chemistry, mostly.” She sighed and crossed her arms, falling easily into a more comfortable standing position. “I plan to pursue biochemical engineering in graduate school, but chemistry for now.”

 

“Oh wow, that’s so cool!” Hunk leaned into the conversation, genuine interest coloring his tone. I might end up with some professors you’ve had, too!”

 

Pidge cracked a devious smile, and turned to Lance before addressing another question to Allura. 

 

“Why don’t you tell Lance and Hunk how you and I know each other, ‘Lura?”

 

At that, a faint blush colored Allura’s face. Lance’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two girls, searching for the joke that he didn’t quite get.

 

“Oh. Well,” she stuttered, and began wringing her hands. Then she huffed once, threw a glare at Pidge, and continued, “Katie’s brother Matt is on the team as well. He’s a senior, so he and I have been swimming together for two seasons now. And Matt is best friends with my… uh,” a fresh blush colored her cheeks, “with Shiro.”

 

At that, Pidge closed her lips into a tight, self-satisfied line, locked eyes with Lance, and tilted her head in the direction of the small cluster of swimmers to their right. Lance’s eyes fell on three boys, one who looked startlingly like Pidge, one with long hair so blond it was almost white, and the one with the white forelock who could model for Hollister. He squinted his eyes when Hollister guy laughed and turned to address one of the others, and just barely made out the name  _ Shirogane _ on the back of his jacket. 

 

Of course. Hollister guy and Hollister girl. Of course.

 

“What’s it been? Two years you two have been dating?” Pidge asked, one hand under her chin in feigned interest.

 

“Not quite yet.” Allura said curtly, her attention drawn to the new presence within the gym. Lance followed her gaze to the lip of the pool where an older man now stood, clipboard in hand and shiny whistle around his neck. His hair was so orange it had to be fake, Lance was like 95% sure.

 

“Alright Lions, gather ‘round!”

 

At the coach’s words, the swimmers stirred, moving to form a half circle at the edge of the water. Lance found himself next to Pidge, who poked an elbow at his rib to get his attention. He turned to face her and found a warm smile and laughing eyes, and he decided that he liked her. He elbowed her back quickly and then turned to the coach.

 

“First off, I’d like to formally introduce myself to our newest recruits. My name is Coran Abernathy, but you can call me Coach Coran or Coach C. Forget that my last name exists. It makes me feel even older than I am.”

 

A few giggles met the joke, and then Coach C continued on.

 

“As today is our first practice, I won’t be working you too hard. We’ll start two a days tomorrow until classes begin, so you’ll be working quite hard enough. Before we begin, though, I’d like to do a few icebreaker exercises. Team building!” The smile that lit up his face was far too bright for 6:30 in the morning, but Lance wasn’t about to tell him that.

 

“Now, I’d like for each of you to turn to the person closest to you who you don’t already know, and ask them three questions. One, where are they from? Two, what will they be studying here at Altea? Remember, student athletes are students first! And three, what is their spirit animal?” Coach C tucked his clipboard underneath one arm and clapped once. “Go!”

 

Lance turned to Pidge immediately, to find her already paired off with Hunk and talking animatedly. He frowned, then turned in the other direction. He heard the muffled “are you serious?” before his gaze landed on his partner.

 

Lance huffed, an amused smirk drawn across his mouth.

 

“Well, good morning to you too, Sunshine.”

 

_ Sunshine _ wasn’t very sunny. The boy scowled and rolled his eyes before stuffing his hands into his pockets and squaring his shoulders in Lance’s direction. He looked vaguely familiar. Lance couldn’t place him.

 

“Go ahead. Break the ice.”

 

His black hair was even more unruly than Lance’s, and longer by quite a bit. It almost looked like it had grown out into a mullet, Lance thought. He was two inches shorter than Lance, maybe less, but his shoulders were just as broad. He wore an expression of annoyed displeasure, and Lance got the feeling that he wore it all the time. His eyes, though. They were so dark they almost looked purple. But no, they were grey, surely. They weren’t purple.

 

“Alright, you win. I’ll start. I’m from California. Pasadena, actually.” Lance mimicked his stance, stuffing his own hands into the pockets of his AU sweatpants. “But both my parents are originally from Cuba. I’m first generation.”

 

Mullet (as Lance had begun calling him mentally) seemed to soften once Lance shared even the tiniest bit of personal information. His shoulders relaxed and his scowl was reduced to just a frown. 

 

“Your turn, EdgeLord.”

 

Aaaaaand nope. The scowl was back.

 

“I’m from Texas.”

 

Lance leaned forward, hands still in his pockets, eyes wide and expectant, ready for Mullet to continue. Instead he pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed them in front of his chest. Lance rolled his eyes.

 

“Jeez dude, so you’re not a morning person, I get it.” He sighed dramatically, letting his head fall back at an unnatural angle for effect. He barely looked up in time to see the ghost of a smile before it left Mullet’s lips.

 

“My mom was Korean.”

 

“ _ Was _ ?” The question was in the air before Lance had time to process. He felt a hot flush color his cheeks and his eyes go wide in shock at his own brazenness. Mullet didn’t seem phased by it, but a slight smirk played on the corners of his mouth before he answered.

 

“Actually, our next topic is majors, so I’m not at liberty to discuss other matters.” Lance’s discomfort seemed to work to ease Mullet into the conversation. Lance wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But regardless, he seemed to take pity on Lance in the moment, choosing to divulge some semblance of personal information. “I’m studying mechanical engineering. I want to build planes. And then fly them. I want to be a pilot, but there’s not really a major for that.”

 

“Is everyone on this team a freaking genius or something?” 

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know dude, everyone I’ve met so far is studying some kind of science and I have no idea what I’m gonna end up doing.”

 

Mullet softened again, and Lance registered his partner taking the smallest of steps toward him, closing some of the distance between them.

 

“You don’t have to know what you want to do. Just take your time, don’t rush it. Not knowing is better than committing yourself to the wrong career.”

 

Lance huffed a laugh, again shocked at where this conversation had gone. 

 

“Thanks.” 

 

Mullet smiled for real then, and then continued speaking.

 

“My spirit animal is a hippo.”

 

Lance felt his face fall, confusion displayed blatantly on his features. Mullet was suppressing a grin.

 

“ _ Why _ ?”

 

And then Mullet laughed, a warm, genuine sound that had the tips of Lance’s ears turning red for just a second. 

 

The shrill ring of the whistle broke them from their conversation, and both boys turned to face Coach C.

 

“Alright then, enough chit chat for one practice. You’ll be broken up into pairs for most drills, so two swimmers to each lane please. You’ll be paired based on recorded times so that you don’t swim over each other.” Coach C looked down to his clipboard after he finished his sentence, flipping up one page to find his notes before continuing. “To start today, we’re going to do an easy 2,000 meter freestyle warm up. I don’t want any of you flooring it, understand? Just enough to wake up your muscles.”

 

Coach C started listing off names, assigning swimmers to their partners and respective lanes. Lance paid close attention, eager to finally put faces to the names he had seen in the locker room. 

 

He was right, Hollister guy was Shiro, Allura’s boyfriend. He was paired with Matt, who must have been Pidge’s brother. They looked eerily alike. 

 

Allura was paired with a girl named Acxa, who Lance noticed was also pretty enough to be a model. She looked almost at dour as Mullet, though.

 

Lance listened to all the names being called, realizing that his was being saved for the end. He looked around, realizing that all of the swimmers except for himself and Mullet had scattered to their respective places and were busy stretching out.

 

“Lane eight.” Coach C placed his clipboard under his arm again, looking between the last two boys in front of him. “Lance. Keith. Lane eight.”

 

Lance’s jaw hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't @ me about Lance not recognizing Keith okay swimmers wear goggles and caps and Lance had never seen the full mullet O K A Y
> 
> anyway hi it's been a while i love u

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello! i've been dreaming up this au for a while and finally got around to typing out the first chapter.
> 
> i'm hoping this fic will give me some momentum to get out of my writer's block and update my other fics too... HERE'S HOPING!!
> 
> anyway have this klance swimteam au where i will pour all of my voltron angst O _ O
> 
>  
> 
> title of the fic comes from "king of my heart" by taylor swift :*


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